Meeting Ms Potts
by the crooked typewriter
Summary: Not a lot of things can get Pepper Potts out of bed at 4 a.m. Fifteen-year-old Spider-Man missing is definitely one of them.


**Meeting Ms. Potts**

 **A short, break-out piece because Spider-Man: Homecoming was pretty fantastic, you have to admit.**

* * *

Peter laughed easily at the burglar's weak attempts to shoot him down. After ten minutes of merely dancing around the burglar's head, he wasn't really in danger. Any call to Mr. Stark had been pushed out of his mind when he saw how ill-prepared the villain was.

"That all you got, Mister?" Spider-Man called at the growling figure beneath him. "There's an eye doctor right down the street from here; maybe I should swing by and pick you up a pair of glasses?"

Good one, Pete! he mentally high-fived himself. He's so officially pissed off at you!

The burglar swung a fist at the air in anger before lifting the handgun he had in his other once more. Peter nearly fell off of the ceiling from laughing so hard.

"Hate to break it to you, buddy, but-"

A lightning-hot spike of pain ripped through Peter's thigh. His vision tunneled to twenty percent, and he squinted to try and see through the black gathering around him.

"Ha, wow," Peter croaked weakly, ''Bout time you got in a good shot."

Karen told him the fact that his suit had been punctured, and that the bullet did exit his body once it entered. She also filled him in that he should seek out medical attention.

No kidding, Spider-Man thought grudgingly.

The burglar fired off another round of bullets, forcing Peter to jump from his temporary haven and back into the fight. It's still under control, Peter convinced himself. There's no need to call Mr. Stark.

As the burglar shouldered his loot, gun still focused at Peter, Peter couldn't help but groan. Not only is he injured-which was a definite bummer because school-but he wouldn't even be able to thwart the bad guy. He just hoped the cops were outside; if anything, he gave them enough time to navigate New York's traffic.

"Spider-Man," the burglar started his bravado as he backed out the door. "It's been real nice, but I get bored easily, and you're just not cutting for entertainment."

Peter snorted. "I'm a little too busy dodging bullets to add in my juggling act. Too bad, too. I can get a good six or seven balls-augh!"

Another bullet ripped through Peter's abdomen. He clutched at the wound almost more out of habit than to stop the bleeding. The dark liquid seeped through his fingers so quickly-every time it mesmerized Peter how much blood he really had inside of him.

By the time Peter had recovered from the second shot, the burglar had turned around and sprinted toward the door. Keening as he aimed his webshooters, Peter fired two thick globs of webbing over his bullet wounds. Then, aiming his webshooters once again, Peter hit the doorframe of the bank's entrance and slammed the door shut, twice as fast firing a string at the burglar's eyes, then his gun. The cold metal skittered across the smooth surface of the bank's lobby, the only other sound other than Peter's laboured breathing.

"Nex-next time," Peter spat. "Stick to pigeon shooting."

Quickly blowing past the burglar to the door, Spider-Man tore off his own webbing to escape the quickly darkening lobby. The constant blare of alarms faded away behind his panic that he wouldn't make it out. Not make it out…

Shooting a desperate string of webbing up into the air, the wall crawler didn't give the police time to even realize he was on the scene. Peter slammed against the cold walls of the bank, temporarily stunned into stopping before scampering the rest of the way up to the roof. His heartbeat felt too loud, the sirens below too quiet, the air was too cold, he was too hot…

When the walls leveled out into roof, Peter stumbled over the edge and onto the rough floor. A small whine escaped his lips as he laid flat on his back, pressing against the blood flow without gaining much ground. As he whipped his mask off, finding it all of a sudden hard to breathe, Peter squeezed his eyes shut to block out some of the pain.

"C'mon, Spider-M-an, you're healing al-lready," Peter encouraged himself out loud. "C'mon.."

And he promptly blacked out.

* * *

Tony Stark wasn't having the best night; but, to be fair he had had worse.

Pepper was mad-she'd deny it but he knew she was-so he had settled onto the couch out of sheer tradition, not because he didn't have enough spare beds to sleep in. In fact, he had so many spare rooms that he could house an NFL team if he wanted to. He just...didn't.

Turning onto his side with a sigh, Stark called out into the darkness. "Friday, what time is it?"

"It's four fifty three in the morning, Boss. Would you like your morning news update now, or at a more humane time?"

"Hilarious, really," Tony snorted. "I'll take it now."

"There was a burglary attempt around midnight, seemingly been stopped by the New York Police Departmen-"

"Not Spider-Man?" Stark interrupted, swinging his legs off of the couch and sitting up straight. That's strange, did Parker have a big essay due or something? He'd usually be all over a burglary. Not able to shake the feeling that something was wrong, Tony pressed the AI further. "Friday, check all security cameras in the area for signs of Spider-Man. Get me more details on this burglary."

"Right away, Boss," Friday answered dutifully.

"And is Spidey's tracking device down? I can't find it on the scanner."

"It seems as though his suit has been damaged."

Tony bit back a curse. Of course the suit was damaged. Nothing with Spider-Man was that easy.

As Friday pulled up more details on the crime and the police reports, Tony pulled a frantic hand through his hair. He could call the kid's aunt-but if he wasn't at home, there would be chaos at the Parker place. He could contact the NYPD...yeah, no. Bad idea.

He searched a little deeper in the files, looking through security cameras-flying from eye to eye to gather his own crime scene data. Just as he was about to give in and agree that the NYPD had caught the bad guy without any assistance from the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, he saw a flash of red.

It was all it took.

Stark called his suit quickly, shouting for his AI to inform Pepper he was leaving.

"Leaving where?"

Tony swivelled around to look at Pepper standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a frown on her face. Tony let the suit assemble around himself as he tried to explain.

"P-Spider-Man's involved in a burglary but his suits been damaged by something. I've got to-I've-he's-" Tony fumbled for the right words to explain the panic he was feeling, the absolute guilt he would feel if his suit failed the kid, if he wasn't there to help him, if he's out there…

"Tony, Spider-Man isn't a kid. He knows what he's doing. Plus, the burglary happened a long time ago. He's probably safe at home, sleeping off the adrenaline," Pepper said carefully, taking a hold of Tony's shoulder and gently pulling him back to the couch.

"No, no, you don't understand. It's-it's more complicated than that. Spider-Man, he's-"

"He's what?"

"He is a kid!" he shouted, unnecessarily loud but he was wasting time. "He's just a kid, and I just, I just let him go around New York City to bust crime lords and burglars and villains. On his own. And if he gets hurt, well, it's my suit he's wearing. I'm responsible."

Pepper slipped her hand off of his shoulder and took a step back. "How young?"

"I can't tell you tha-"

"How young is Spider-Man?" Pepper reiterated, spacing out her words so that each one would hit it's target. Tony put his hands to his face.

"Fifteen."

Pepper turned around and marched out of the doorway, ponytail swinging behind her angrily. Tony guiltily finished slamming down his faceplate. She wouldn't understand, Tony realized sadly. She's never had a kid to look after.

He heard a clamor behind him. Turning to face the noise, Stark realized that Pepper was in the doorway again. Black yoga pants, coat, cool-pink top with her hair tied back neatly-no makeup, Tony gaped, but she looked every bit as beautiful.

"I'll start the car," Pepper said simply, jogging past Tony toward the garage. "I'm following you from below!" she shouted after her. Tony couldn't help but shake his head in awe at the woman he loved so much it physically hurt.

"I'll stick to main roads," he said, wonder filling his voice as he heard a car engine roaring to life. "But I'm leaving you behind if you get stuck in traffic!"

* * *

Pepper weaved her way through New York's four a.m. traffic like she was born to. Every so often glancing at the sky to see if she was still on track for finding Spider-Man-fifteen year old Spider-Man-she would shake her head at Tony's utter stupidity. Letting this kid go out and fight crime, at night, in New York, as a teenager? Pepper let out an angry sigh as she cut off two taxi drivers and took a left turn like she belonged in NASCAR. As Iron Man from above waved her to a stop, Pepper slammed on the breaks and squealed to a stop before backing onto the sidewalk and jumping out of the car.

Crime scene tape had long since disappeared. The police were gone, so was the burglar. Any signs or witnesses of where Spider-Man could be had been swept up in crime scene clean up. They had no clues to go off of anymore.

In her woeful state, Pepper picked up her phone and accepted Tony's call.

"No clues down here. Not even crime scene tape. Honestly, Tony, I don't understand-"

Tony's voice cut her off on the line-pained, panicked, dread filled. "I found him."

Pepper's eyes widened. "Where?"

"Rooftop."

Pepper sprinted into the building.

Finding the elevator quickly, Pepper pressed the rooftop button without hesitation. It all took too long-the elevator lazily flicking through floors. Pepper picked the phone up again, dialing Tony's number. "Give me an update. What's going on? Is he hurt?"

She heard Tony swallow thickly on the other side. "It's, um, he's shot up pretty bad. Two-three? Maybe bullet wounds and bleeding badly. Not responding."

Pepper pressed him further, noticing the growing panic in Tony's voice. "Does he have a pulse? Is he breathing, Tony?"

"Y-yes. Yep. Detecting pulse and breathing," Tony answered. She heard a scream and quickly pulled the phone away from her ear. She was almost there, almost, hang in there, Spider-Man.

Muttering a curse under her breath as the elevator dung the warning of approaching the roof level, Pepper slammed the button to open the door and rushed into the early morning air. She could smell blood before she saw the two men on the ground.

Oh, Pepper sent up a silent prayer. Oh God, let them both be okay.

"Keep talking to me, Tony," Pepper shouted ahead of her as she approached the figures on the roof.

"Abdomen's got a bullet still in it, thigh's shot went right through. Exit wounds pretty big, he's lost a lot...a lot…oh, sh-" Tony's report wheezed to a stop as he slammed his fist to the ground.

Her eyes glided over the young superhero's form. Blood coated his lower half, drying his suit a crimson red, and the ground black. Spider-Man's hands were bloodied too, as if he had tried to press the wounds himself. His soft brown hair was slicked with sweat, making it stick up at odd angles. His eyes were closed, his forehead creased with pain even in his unconscious state.

"He shouldn't be alive right now," Pepper stated as she helped Spider-Man into Tony's arms. "He's been bleeding out since midnight."

"Why didn't he call?" Tony said angrily. He jostled the teen slightly, ready to take flight. "This is all my fault."

"Stop!" Spider-Man screamed, just as Tony fired up his suit. Tony jumped, nearly letting go of the struggling superhero. "Stop, it hurts!"

Pepper looked at Tony, wide eyed.

Fifteen years old. Bleeding out on the rooftop. Alone.

"Shh, it's okay, we're here, Spider-Man. We're getting you help, just hang in there for a little longer," Pepper whispered, incredulous about how he was handling the pain. "Tony, set him down. Set him down now." Tony set the boy down.

"It hur-hurts too much," Spider-Man moaned. Pepper couldn't help but wince as his wounds started to leak once again. With trembling hands, Pepper unloaded the first aid kit onto the rooftop. It wasn't enough for what Spider-Man needed, but it was better than the ugly webbing job it looked like Spider-Man had tried. If he couldn't be moved, they needed to be proactive until they could move him.

She tossed a pack of gauze to Tony as she tore open another, packing the white cloth over the boy's wounds tightly. Spider-Man hissed through clenched teeth. They only worked faster, binding the wounds with bandages and layering gauze until the red disappeared underneath layers of snow-white supplies. Spider-Man lay still through it all, hands fisting and unfisting being the only movement betraying his discomfort. It wasn't until Pepper tied the last bandage tight that he let out another scream.

The pair flinched at the sudden noise. Spider-Man lapsed back into unconsciousness.

"Tony. Hospital. Now," Pepper instructed. Tony gave a nod, wrapping his arms tighter around Spider-Man and jetting him up into the air. "I'll meet you there!"

As Tony flew Spider-Man to help, Pepper turned around and wrenched open the door to the stairs. She didn't have time to wait for the elevator.

* * *

Peter woke to the sound of the heart monitor beeping slowly, and the smell of antiseptic in his nose. His eyes felt crusted together, and he let out a groan at how stiff his body was. He could feel air being forced into his nose by the sticky, thick tube resting on his top lip. His stomach and thigh were tightly wrapped, but it didn't make it hurt any less. Peeling his eyelids open, he watched as the world went from blurry to crisp, revealing a lady with orange hair and yoga pants on. She wasn't a nurse...and she looked sort of familiar…

"Ms. Potts?" he whispered, his voice not being able to do much other than that.

"Hi, Peter," Ms. Potts greeted sweetly. Peter blanched.

"How do you-is-my mask-Mr. Stark!" Peter said, jumping from conclusion to conclusion before turning to the figure standing by the door. "You told her?!"

He sat up quickly on the bed before regretting it. He rubbed his stomach gingerly as he blinked quickly to chase away the tears.

"Easy, kid," Mr. Stark said, making a calming motion with his hands. "We had you admitted to the hospital in civilian form. The cover story is already out there. I've got Pepper here until your aunt can come and keep you company."

"Oh," Peter said quietly. "It was bad, then?"

"What was bad?" Ms. Potts asked gently. "Your wounds? You definitely gave us a scare by not calling. By the time we got to you, you had lost a lot of blood."

"But, we got to you. That's what matters. And your aunt is coming, so that's good too. And you're already healing," Mr. Stark said, his tone sounding forced.

"Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, I'm sorry," Peter said, grimacing at how young he sounded. "I didn't mean to make a big deal about it. The guy got some lucky shots in, I thought I could handle him-"

"Oh-ho, no. Don't give me that. I told you to call before you engage. No matter who, what, when, where, or why. You are not bothering me by letting me know you're fighting crime. We've been over this-"

"You know what? Enough," Pepper said sternly, looking from Mr. Stark to Peter. "Peter, you understand what Mr. Stark is telling you?"

"Yes," Peter squeaked.

"And Tony, it was Peter's decision. He made it. He won't make the same decision again. Are we over it?" Pepper kept eye contact with Mr. Stark until his frustrated expression melted. "Now, let's let you rest up before your aunt gets here."

Peter forced a quick smile toward Ms. Potts, and she easily smiled back. Mr. Stark took a call and rushed out of the room, throwing an apologetic glance over his shoulder before letting the door slam shut behind him. That left him alone with Ms. Potts.

Letting his guard down was not an option, but the longer he sat up, the more he could feel the absence of the pain medicine. Peter swallowed thickly, inching back under the hospital covers before laying his head on the pillow once again. The cool oxygen didn't feel like it was helping. Nudging it with the back of his hand, Peter tried to dislodge the tube that hooked around his ears. Pepper's hand was quickly at his wrist, guiding his arm back onto the bed.

Peter couldn't meet her eyes.

"Do you think...do you think that I could ask for a higher dosage?" Peter asked weakly, motioning toward the I.V. line that was slowly dripping away to his left. Ms. Potts eyes followed, shaking her head slowly.

"I don't think that would be wise," Ms. Potts answered, folding her hands in her lap. Peter dropped his hand back onto the bed. That was that then, Peter thought grudgingly. I'm gonna cry right in front of the CEO of Stark Industries.

He squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears, and as his lips began to tremble Peter cursed his weakness. Mr. Stark wouldn't be crying because of a badly-placed bullet wound. He'd already be working on his next invention, or saving New York, or sparring with an Avenger. Mr. Stark wouldn't have even been in the hospital bed in the first place-nor would any Avenger, really. They would have anticipated the bullets, would have gotten the bad guy before he could have done any damage, would have kept their fat mouths shut so that they were dealing with just a crook-not a mad crook.

He didn't realize he was grinding his teeth so hard until Ms. Potts spoke up.

"This might sound ridiculous, and I'll admit I'm out of practice with young men, but would it be okay if I just held your hand for a little while? Until your aunt gets here, or until you fall asleep? You can say no."

Peter opened his eyes, and blinked a few times as he processed her request.

"Yeah, actually," Peter found himself saying quietly. "If-if you really want to, that is. Ms. Potts."

"Hold hands with Spider-Man? What girl in New York wouldn't want to?" she said, smiling sadly, though Peter couldn't understand why she was so sad. "Just know if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm there for you, just like I am for Tony...when I'm not running his company, that is." She laughed lightly.

"Must be a lot of responsibility," Peter said, letting his eyes drift closed as his hand laced together with Ms. Potts's.

"I suppose it is," she said thoughtfully. "Though you know what makes it all worth it?"

Peter took the cue to shake his head again.

"The lives I know we're saving with what we do. Every minute I spend on the job, I know a family is staying together despite the violence. A young woman is being saved from being trafficked. A soldier brings his friend home from war safely...and yet at the same time, so many lives are being taken away. I just hope that we're supporting the right ones."

"With great power comes great responsibility," Peter said solemnly, echoing his uncle's words from so long ago. "Ms. Potts, I think-er, that's what this is all about, really. Protecting who you can, fighting those who put them in danger, and ultimately-"

"Sacrificing yourself for the cause," Pepper finished, enclosing Peter's cold hands in her soft, warm fingers. "You are so brave, Peter."

"Spider-Man's brave," he corrected. "Peter Parker's just average."

"Is that your last name? Parker?" Ms. Potts said, surprised. Peter slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Dang it."

Ms. Potts laughed, her ponytail swinging back and forth behind her as her shoulders shook. There was a knock at the door, signalling the doctor's arrival as well as the entrance of Aunt May. Pepper looked meaningfully at Peter before she stood to leave.

"You won't be opposed to a coffee date some time soon?" she asked, watching Peter flush a bright pink color.

"I-I, um, sure, Ms. Potts. Anytime, though I'm pretty busy most nights...what with, you know…"

Pepper winked before picking up her purse and standing. "I'll hold back any burglar that gets in the way, while you punch."

And Peter smiled as the CEO of Stark Industries let go of his hand, slipped a familiar piece of red cloth under his pillow, and walked out of sight.


End file.
